


red tie at night, DCI's delight

by Spikedluv



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fandom Snowflake Challenge, the mildest d/s you've ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: Tom has a hard day; Joyce offers respite.
Relationships: Joyce Barnaby/Tom Barnaby
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7
Collections: Fandom Snowflake Challenge





	red tie at night, DCI's delight

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the end scene of ep 9.06 Country Matters and written for the [Fandom Snowflake Challenge](https://snowflake-challenge.dreamwidth.org/). Several people encouraged folk to try something new/step out of their comfort zone for the ‘Create Your Own Challenge’ challenge and I got this done in time to post for the ‘Create a Fanwork’ challenge. This is my first fic in this fandom, I have not written het in ages, nor do I write D/s, though this is the mildest D/s you’ve probably ever read. *g*
> 
> Written: January 21, 2021

Tom slumped into the house and stood in the entry for a moment, listening to Joyce moving around in the kitchen, singing something low enough that he couldn’t make out the words. There was the sound of water running, then silence.

“Tom,” Joyce called. “Is that you?”

Tom took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Yes,” he called back with a cheer he didn’t feel. He dropped his keys onto the hallway table and shrugged out of his suit jacket. Tom draped the jacket over the newel post on his way to the kitchen. The forced smile froze on his face when he saw the red tie coiled up on the island.

“Rough day?” Joyce said.

She’d turned around and leaned back against the sink, drying her hands on one of the new kitchen towels she’d purchased. Cardinals, if he remembered correctly.

Tom dragged his eyes away from the tie. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your day,” Joyce said, her gaze never drifting towards the island.

“Oh, yes, rough.” Two murders in the same number of days and too many suspects. “Did Jones call?”

“I don’t need Ben to call me, Tom,” Joyce said. “I’ve got a casserole in the oven. It’ll be about an hour. Why don’t you go take a shower.” Joyce turned back to the sink and began drying the dishes she’d just placed in the drainer.

“A shower would be good,” Tom said.

Joyce gave a noncommital hum.

The choice was his, Tom knew. He could turn away, leave the tie where it lay, take a shower and have a casserole. Or . . . Tom reached out and took the tie with him when he left the kitchen.

~*~

Tom stepped out of the shower washed clean of the day’s stresses, though that was due less to the new shower gel (he thought he’d smelled mint with a hint of lavender) than anticipation of what was going to happen next. He dried off and hung the towel with fingers that shook a little.

Joyce was waiting for him when he stepped into the bedroom, as he’d known she would be. Her gaze dropped to where Tom had grown hard, then met his own eyes. “Undress me.”

Tom went behind Joyce and slipped the cardigan down her arms. He folded it and laid it on the chest at the foot of the bed. Next was her blouse. Tom slipped every tiny button with fingers that felt thick and slow. Joyce stood patiently until the blouse was unbuttoned.

Tom pushed the material off her shoulders and it slithered down her arms. Tom caught the blouse before it could fall to the floor and it joined the cardigan. Tom dared a glance at the white lace stretched across Joyce’s breasts and his breath caught. Joyce gave him a knowing look and pointed to the floor at her feet.

Tom went to his knees and slipped off Joyce’s shoes one at a time when she lifted her feet. The heat of her hand where she steadied herself against his shoulder was like a brand. Shoes set aside, Tom turned his attention to the button at the waistband of her trousers.

The zip seemed loud in the quiet of the room. Tom slid the material over Joyce’s hips and down her legs so she could step out of the trousers. This close, the scent of her was strong and went directly to Tom’s member. He longed to bury his face between her legs.

Instead, he rose, folded the trousers and placed them with the rest of Joyce’s neatly stacked clothes. The bra came next. Tom undid the clasp and drew the material down her arms. Only iron control (and the thought of the paddle in the lower drawer of the night stand) kept him from touching her breasts, rolling the hard nipples between his fingers.

The bra was neatly set aside before Tom slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her undies, white with blue flowers, and drew the material down. Joyce raised one leg, then the other, and Tom slipped them over her feet. When the undies lay atop the pile of clothes, Tom returned to stand before Joyce.

At a gesture he placed his lips at the juncture of neck and shoulder and kissed his way across. Tom worked his way down her arm, laying soft kisses at the inside of her elbow, her wrist, the palm of her hand, then moved to the other shoulder and did the same.

Tom kissed Joyce’s collarbone, between her breasts and down to her belly. He kissed over her hips, the scent of her tugging at his insides. He put his lips as close to her center as he could without drawing Joyce’s displeasure, then continued down, first one leg, then the other, lingering at her knees and the arches of her feet.

“Enough,” Joyce finally said, her voice a little bit hoarse.

Joyce moved with shaky steps to the chair in the corner and perched on the edge, her knees together like a proper lady. She pushed back and let her legs fall apart. Her gaze steady on Tom where he still knelt, Joyce raised one leg over the arm of the chair.

Tom’s breath caught. Joyce raised her other leg, opening herself to Tom’s gaze. She slid one hand downward over her belly until the tips of her fingers brushed the curly hair concealing her center. Instead of touching herself, Joyce’s slid her hand down her leg to her knee, then back up to the sensitive skin at the juncture of hip and thigh where Tom loved to place his lips.

Tom wondered if Joyce would continue to tease him, but she used two fingers to spread herself, then dipped one finger inside. Heat built in Tom’s belly. He clenched his hands so he wouldn’t reach for Joyce, or for himself. He couldn’t stop the sound that escaped his throat when Joyce placed the moistened finger between her lips.

Tom knee-walked as quickly as he could across the floor when Joyce finally pulled the finger from her mouth and beckoned him with it. Without another word Joyce used her hands to pull her knees back further and Tom buried his face in her center.

Joyce made a sound that stoked the embers of desire already burning in Tom’s belly. She combed her fingers through his hair and give him a breathless, “Good boy.”

Tom shuddered at the praise and deepened his ministrations, making Joyce writhe against his lips until she was limp with the release he’d drawn out of her once, and again. Tom’s jaw was getting sore but he eagerly lapped at Joyce’s folds, drinking down the taste of her until she came down from her third orgasm and gently pushed him away.

Tom raised his head and licked his lips, drinking in the sight of Joyce’s flushed skin, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, her lips parted and her eyes glazed. Joyce made a gesture and Tom helped her move her legs. She made a sound that was part groan and part laugh.

“I always say it, but this time I mean it; I really need to do some stretches first, next time.”

Tom liked the sound of ‘next time’. “You’re beautiful,” he said as he pulled Joyce to her feet.

Joyce gave him a quick look of surprise and Tom resolved to tell her that more often. When she wasn’t naked and he didn’t still have the taste of her on his tongue.

“Thank you,” Joyce said. “Now help me over to the bed like a good boy.”

Joyce tugged on Tom’s hardness as she laid back and he followed her onto the mattress. She wrapped her legs around his hips and drew his head down to her breast. He suckled the treat that had been denied to him earlier as Joyce positioned him at her entrance.

Tom moaned at the feel of her hand on him, and again when he pressed into her heat. Joyce tightened her legs and drew him deeper. Tom moaned again and moved inside her.

~*~

Tom lay relaxed on the bed with Joyce snuggled up against his side. His limbs felt like wet noodles and his brain was blissfully empty. The tension he’d been carrying because of the case had eased and he felt like he could start fresh in the morning.

Suddenly an idea came to him unbidden. Tom grabbed Joyce’s hand where it rested on his chest and sat up. Joyce was jostled onto the pillow.

“What . . . ?” she said with a touch of exhausted irritation at being disturbed from her resting place.

“Pudding,” Tom said decisively.

“What about pudding?” Joyce leaned up on an elbow and watched as Tom swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his clothes.

“The pudding is the key!”

“Where are you going?” Joyce said as Tom redressed.

Tom picked up the red tie, then set it aside and found the tie he’d worn to work that morning. “Back to work. I need to call Jones.”

“What about supper?”

Tom thought about the casserole in the oven and wasn’t the least bit sorry when he lied and said, “I’m sorry to have to miss it, Joyce, but this is important.”

Joyce flopped back onto the bed, her breasts jiggling temptingly. “Of course it is.”

“You can punish me later.” Tom leaned over the bed and kissed Joyce goodbye.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Joyce said. “And brush your teeth before you leave!”

Tom altered course and headed for the bathroom with a little skip. Of course it was the pudding! he thought.

The End


End file.
